


Discipline

by Dombell



Category: Belldom - Fandom, Muse (Band)
Genre: BDSM, M/M, S&M, Teacher/Student
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 04:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12763506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dombell/pseuds/Dombell
Summary: Tags etc. say it all!Ft. caning, power play and all that jazz.





	Discipline

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve decided to finally try something completely AU for once. It’s the same ol’ one-shot pwp that I usually write, but BAM Dom’s a teacher and Matt’s a student.
> 
> Non-con elements ARE there at first, but absolutely no sex is had without both being very obviously consensual about it so don’t worries there’s no icky rape that’s a no no.
> 
> +This is based of the average American education system in the 80s-90s because that’s all I know and I didn’t want to have to learn about education in other countries before writing so sorry abt that just use your imagination.

This boy... he’s going to be the end of me.

He’s so small, he seems so innocent, but I know better. The way he eyes me during my lectures... It’s been like this all year, but these past few weeks, he’s been... especially obvious in his interest. Always so attentive. Never to the subject at hand, but attentive nonetheless.

Except for today, the poor thing, he can’t seem to stay awake.  
It’s so damned cute, the way he rests his head on his hand like that. I wonder why he’s so tired today...

“Matthew.”

Oh, _fuck me_ he’s adorable when he’s startled. I’m gonna mess with that.

: : :

He’s trying so hard to stay awake. Not hard enough, I see.  
I’ll have to wake him up for good...

I swing my cane down and hit the empty area of his desk loudly, prompting a high-pitched squeak. His wide eyes fly around the classroom and his classmates giggle.

“Sorry, Mr. Howard.”  
He blushes.  
I want to see him blush more.

“See me after class.”

: : :

The bell rings and everyone leaves except him. Glad to see he didn’t try to sneak out in the end-of-school rush. He packs his stuff and slings his backpack across one shoulder. The awkward boy, he has no idea what he does to me.

I close the door behind the last student and lock it. He must’ve noticed because when I turn around he’s staring with an apologetic nervousness.

“I- I didn’t mean to sleep, it’s just- I didn’t get to bed until-“

“I don’t want to hear it.”

He looks down.  
Aw, I’m really scaring him. This is fun.

I walk cooly to my desk and sit, cross-legged.

“Come”

His backpack.

“Leave your stuff by the desk. Just you.”

He stands in front of my desk. I look into his downcast eyes and see dilated pupils. He’s going to love this, I know he will. And even if he doesn’t, it abides by school codes for one and two I know I’ll enjoy it.

I stand and pick up my cane. Let’s just get right into it.

“You disappoint me, Matthew.”

He blinks.  
“I’m sorry.”

Part of me wants to comfort the kid and tell him I’m not angry, but I can’t help but settle for the more exciting option.

I walk up to his side, twisting the cane in my fingers, and soak up his mild look of terror.  
I smack my palm with the cane and watch him tense up.

“Hands on my desk.”

“ _What_?”  
His head whips up to make eye contact. There’s that blush.

“And don’t bend your knees.”

“M-mr. Howard, I-“

“Now, Bellamy.”

He faces back down and shifts his weight from foot to foot.  
Finally, he breathes in deep, bends over, and places his hands flat on the desk- just as ordered. The sight makes me want to drop everything and drape my body over him, but I control myself.

“Back up so you’re bent over properly.”

Matt’s fingers curl into fists at that, but he does as he’s told. Good boy.

I fake my best sigh and get in position.

_Swish-smack_

His entire back tenses beneath his thin brown sweater. He looks so soft and gentle, doing this to him feels so deliciously cruel.

“I work long hours for each of my lectures, Matthew. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Y- yes, Mr. Howard.”

_Swish-smack_

_Oh_ , there’s that cute squeak again.

“Have you not been taught that sleeping through class is disrespectful?”

_Swish-smack_

His head drops and his fingers squeeze the desk tightly.

“It’s very disappointing to me that _anybody_ would find my work boring enough to sleep through. Do my lectures bore you, Bellamy?”

“No, Mr. Howard.”

_Swish-smack_

He whimpers and my head reels.  
“God, you’re perfect,” I whisper.

Matt seems to have heard me, because he breathes in as if to reply, but freezes before speaking.

“Stand up.”

He stands lightning fast, one hand not-so-discretely covering his hardness and the other gently rubbing his backside.

“I expect you’ll be wide awake come Monday?”

He breathes slowly.  
“Yes, Mr. Howard.”

“You may go.”

He grabs his stuff and leaves quickly, but I catch a glimpse of him covering his mouth with a sleeved hand before the door shuts behind him and snicker.

: : :

I must admit, classes after that day were weird.  
Matt kept looking at me like usual, but there was something more there. Something I couldn’t decipher, but I knew it was positive. Suggestive almost? I need another reason to get him alone before he’s not my student anymore.

Oh, perfect. His grade.

: : :

“As I’m sure all of you are aware, finals are the week after the next, and for many of you that means the end of your high school career.”  
I make quick eye contact with Matt.

“I’ve evaluated each of your grades and taken some of my time to write these slips here with the grade you currently have in my class and a personalized note attached.”  
The slackers of the class exchange wary glances.

“If you have under a B-, it is required you come to at least one study group in this room at the time written on your slip. If you are assigned at time that will not work with your schedule, please see me after class and we can make adjustments.”

It was genius. The personalized notes made it so easy. Matt was the only one with the 2:50-3:15PM study group on Tuesday.

As I pass out the slips, I get responses of relief, anger, and everything in between. Except Matt, who avoids eye contact and silently reads my note.  
_C- ...We need to talk. I know you can do better than this._

: : :

It’s Tuesday afternoon. The last student exits and I leave my room after them. I want a chance get into character undisturbed in the bathroom. Even if it’s not all too drastic a change, I don’t want to slip up and reveal the secret side of me. The side that would do anything that boy wanted me to do on a whim.  
Not yet at least.

When I make it back to the classroom I see him sitting, alone, waiting at his desk.  
He’s early.

“Eager, are you?”

He looks up but ignores the question. “Where’s everyone else?”

I close and lock the door like before and he stands warily, realization hitting, no doubt.  
I sit at my desk just like last time.

“Leave your stuff and come here.”

“Mr. How-“

“Sir.”

“What?”

“You will call me sir.”

He says nothing.

“Come here.” I gesture to the area next to my desk.

He obliges with thin arms crossed and hunched shoulders jutting forward.

“...sir.” He murmurs quietly.

“Yes?”

“Why me? I saw other people’s grades. Some were a lot worse than mine. Do... do you do this to the other kids, too?”

I fold my hands together in my lap.  
“I hold you to high standards, Matthew. _Very_ high standards. I see an intelligence in you that which I don’t see in others, and I _know_ ,nyou can do better than what your performance alone this semester would suggest. If you’d just put the effort forward, you’d succeed. Easily. I truly believe that.”

“Oh.”

“Now the problem, Matthew, is that you _aren’t_ trying.”

He seems very interested in the floor.

“And it is because of this, that I feel you’re in need of some sort of discipline. Discipline your parents or guardian figures are _evidently_ not willing to give you.”

He doesn’t look up or speak but his fists clench. I see he wants to protest, but he _wisely_ settles with obedience.

“Over here.”  
I stand and motion to the arm chair I keep tucked in the back of the room for my lunch breaks.

“Seeing as this is the second time I’ve had to do this with you, I feel a more severe punishment is in order.”

His face is a bright red. I’m growing addicted to that look.

I grab my cane from the desk.  
“Remove all clothing from your waist down to your knees and bend over.”

Again, Matt’s face whips to meet my gaze, this time with blatant terror and arousal evident. Regardless, he makes no argument and slowly complies.  
He pulls his jeans down to his knees, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“ _All_ clothing.” I feign indifference.

I can tell it takes all the boy’s will power not to cry or scream or run away as he lowers his boxer briefs as well and lays his body over the armrest- pale, creamy skin on display.  
I breath a moment. He looks so tempting with those thin legs and cute arse raised and ready for punishment. Be still, my beating heart.

“I’m thinking 10 strokes. How does that sound? Enough to set you straight for the next few weeks?”

He doesn’t reply.

I gently tap across his arse with the cane and smile at the tremor that visibly runs up his spine.  
“Count for me, boy.”

The first three go smoothly, just a slight bounce and grimace at each. He counts quietly.

“Speak up.”

The fourth makes him yelp. I want to hear that again. He stutters the number.

I aim for his thighs for the fifth, and the stroke makes him flinch and arch his back. He’s on his toes for a moment until the pain fades enough to slump back down with a groaned “five.”

The sixth and seventh happen fast. There’s his angelic voice again. So sweet and pained.

“S- seven.”

His counting begins to seem laborious, but I hold true to my promise of ten licks.

The boy moans on the eighth. He _moans_.  
It’s getting increasingly difficult for me to stay composed. He whispers the number abashedly.

The ninth strike is surprisingly quiet, and I would’ve been let down had I not noticed him involuntarily rotate his hips to grind into the couch.

I take a moment to fully appreciate the image before me;  
A mop of messy, raven hair partially covers the softly glowing profile of his face.  
Dark eyelashes cover white cheeks.  
Pink lips- barely visible.  
A grey, oversized sweater rides up his back from the angle of his body.  
His feet shuffle below him in discomfort.

I bring the cane down one last time, but this time, if I’m not mistaken, he arches _into_ it.  
I knew it, the painslut.

“Ten.” I barely hear him over the blood rushing in my ears.

“Stand.”

He takes a moment, probably recouping, but eventually he pushes his body upright. He pulls his clothing back on quickly despite the obvious pain it causes him.

I have to break character. I have to be sure he knows what this is.  
“Um, Matt?”

Matt looks up at the sudden loss of formality, faint tear streaks I hadn’t noticed before glistening on his startlingly sharp cheeks bones.  
“This can be our little secret, yeah?”

His eyes pierce mine and he sucks on his bottom lip.  
I walk up close to him, disregarding my cane on the table.

“Mm..” Matt makes a small noise.

I rest my hands on the boys slender hips and hold him, our erections agonizingly close and almost brushing.

“Okay.” He looks down and wipes his face with his palm.

“I’ll see you here... Thursday. Same time?”

He stares at my lips. “Yes, sir.”

“My name’s Dominic. Call me Dom.”

Obviously flustered, he nods.  
He appears to be in desperate need to leave, probably to get off in the bathroom, so I let him go.

: : :

Class with Matt was especially strange after that, but we managed to keep our secret and appear professional to any outside eyes.  
I must’ve made it hard for the poor boy, though.

On the bright side, his grades were going up.

: : :

It’s Thursday. Matt walks in at 2:50 on the dot without his backpack.  
He hasn’t chickened out.

I leap up and immediately lock the door behind him and press him against the wall with a deep kiss.  
He gasps dramatically so I move to his neck.

“You’ve already had your birthday this year, right?” I pant out.

“Y- _uhn_ yeah.. I’m 18.”

“Good.”

I pin his wrists low to the sides against the wall.

“Keep those there.” I growl down at him, deeper than I intended.

He obediently presses his palms against the wall and gasps a little when I put my hands up his shirt. I caress his hip bones and up his ribs. This kid is a work of art.  
When my fingers make their way up to his chest, he turns his face to the side and grimaces. He knows what’s coming.  
Still sucking on his neck, I draw circles around each nipple, slowly closing in on the sensitive flesh.

“You’re so prefect, Matt. God, you’re so beautiful.” I muse.

He whimpers and squeezes his eyes shut as my fingers finally close in on and massage the bits of sensitive flesh. He arches into it so I increase pressure.

“Your performance is still unsatisfactory, Matthew.” My best ‘strict teacher’ voice.  
“I expect only the best from from you.” I murmur throatily into his neck.

Matt whines. It wasn’t entirely fair, being that it had only been two days since our last meeting, but he knew it was all a game and I intended to continue playing it as long as I was able.

“I know exactly what you need.”

I finish the teasing and squeeze hard. Matt’s hands involuntarily come up and he grips at my wrists, gasping. I ignore the reaction and continue harshly massaging. Matt’s small mouth forms an o, spit glistening on his rose-colored lower lip.  
When I feel he’s had enough, I take my hands away. Matt slumps forward at the release, shirt falling back down and covering his torso.

“Oh, that’s no good.” I say, lifting the loose black long sleeve back up over his head. His hair sticks up wildly.  
I step back and view him. His nipples are reddened slightly and his cheeks have a tainted flush, eyes dazed. I turn away and head for the armchair, tossing his shirt onto my desk. I sit and pat my lap invitingly.

Matt looks at me inquisitively, still recovering against the wall and breathing heavily.

“Come, have a seat.” I shoot a toothy grin at him.  
He stumbles a bit but makes his way over and falters in front of me, unsure of what to do, so I widen my stance and explain.

“You’re gonna ride me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You should get rid of your clothes.” I cross my arms and smile crookedly.

He moves to remove his pants, but I can tell he gets self conscious part way through. Once he was naked, it took a moment for him to summon the courage not to cover his crotch with his arms.  
While watching the display, I had cleared my midsection of clothing, waiting patiently.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Matt climbs up onto the couch and straddles me. I’m in heaven.

“Why not?” I grip his hips steadily, teasingly, above my half-hardened cock.

“I... I don’t know... I think about doing this a lot.”

He does? _Oh my god_. No, no, keep your cool. “Well, I guess it’s your lucky day.”

Matt lets out a sort of nervous half-laugh.

“Ready?”  
His arms wrap around my shoulders.

“M- ..mhm.”

I urge him downwards and he drops along slowly. I makes my way to his opening and the arms around my neck tense up.  
He pauses, but I just press harder until my tip’s breeched him. He’s so tight I could cry.  
I move to lower him further but he yelps so I wait.

“Does it hurt?”

He nods fiercely, fringe getting in his eyes.  
“Don’t stop, though.”

I smile another idiotically toothy grin.  
“Good, it _should_ hurt. Otherwise it’s not entirely discipline, now, is it?”

I push down harder at that until he’s taken me- all the way. He’s moaning and digging his nails into me and it is _bliss_.

“Uhnn oh, _fuck_.. **fuck** ing hell... _Dom_!”  
It feels good to hear my actual name spoken from his lips.

He lifts his self up and drops down again on his own, trembling all the way.  
I look up into the boys face, contorted with pain and pleasure above me.

Again.

I think for a moment about our age gap. I’m a young teacher. 7 years isn’t _too_ much, is it?

Again.

Matt’s head drops to my shoulder and he whimpers adorably.  
I think I love him.

Again.

I love one of my students.

Again.

I start thrusting up with each drop, nearing the edge.  
Does he love me, too?

Again.

What will I do after next week when he’s gone?

Again and again and again and again.

Matt comes with a gorgeous sound.  
His blazing blue eyes, finally open and staring right into mine, sends me over right after him. I’m sure that he’ll have bruises on his hips after the way I held him during my orgasm.

He comes down inches from my face, eyes half lidded, and kisses me.  
_He_ kisses _me_.

This boy... he’s going to be the end of me.

\- - -

Because I’m lazy and this is supposed to just be a one-shot, I’ll just tell you here that in my head Matt graduates Dom’s class with an A (lol) and Matt moves out from his grandmother’s to Dom’s.  
They go on a few _real_ dates that aren’t at school or weird s&m meetings over the summer and it turns out they both love the shit out of music and also eachother so they collectively decide an 18 year old and a 25 year old can work out.

They live together and Dom helps Matt with college and they’re happy the end.


End file.
